


More Human than Us

by LunaD



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: A very good doggo, Batarian has maybe adopted a vorcha, Batarians and vorchas are secretly soft??, Commander Shepard (Mentioned) - Freeform, Consequences of Arrival (DLC), Gen, Grief/Mourning, Original Character Death(s), Original Character-centric, POV First Person, Post-Mass Effect 2: Arrival, Short One Shot, almost an emotional whump piece, implied suicidal thoughts, the bestest varren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-07 02:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21207671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaD/pseuds/LunaD
Summary: The aftermath of Shepard's choice at the end of the Arrival (DLC) and how it impacts the Batarian's future in the story's canon. Seen through the eyes of one of the survivors.





	More Human than Us

**Author's Note:**

> This was created for the "Beyond the Citadel" Mass Effect fanzine. It focused on alien races that didn't quite get the same limelight as others. I focused my piece on Batarians because it's almost swept under the rug, the outcome of one of their worlds being destroyed by your character. I wanted to explore situations that would have made the Batarians seem more relatable and human rather than Bioware's 'throw-away' race.
> 
> You can read my story as well as others in the available zine! https://beyondthecitadelzine.tumblr.com/post/186096858797/our-orders-for-beyond-the-citadel-a-mass-effect

Slowly I am pulled into my mind. My body detached from the cool night air, the noises from the wildlife surrounding us, the heat filtering off from the flickering bonfire. I'm suddenly back in the Aethon Cluster, finishing my final job before heading back home, back to my wife and daughter, back to the Bahak System.

My team and I had just finished loading up a shipment to be smuggled into the blackmarkets of the Citidel, a fellow Batarian smacked the last box before loudly exclaiming, "How 'bout we hit the bar before heading out boys?"

I nodded in agreement to him, expecting a loud cheer from the others, but was met with silence. I turned to the others, only to see a mix of emotion across their faces. They all were looking past me, to the hologram. I turn to look, not realizing that this was the last moment I would have with a shred of normalcy.

My brain struggled to comprehend what the VI on the screen was saying.

"Today marks the first tragedy in a near century as reports have come in that the oldest Mass Effect Relay in existants has been destroyed. Scientists and officials are investigating what could be the biggest explosion in our system to date. At the time it is uncertain of the cause of the explosions or if there were any survivors."

I don't realize how enveloped in my memories I have become until Dova nudges my hand, causing me to drop the metal cup to the floor. The clattering is enough to rouse me out of the fog of my mind. I look up to see both Dova and Krito staring at me. I can tell by the intensity of Krito's eyes that he knows what memory I was enveloped in.

"You can't keep doing this." Krito huffs, his eyes unwavering. I clear my throat and pick the cup off the floor. Dova moves around to lap up the spilled contents. Her eyes reflect the flickers of the flame, nothing more than mirrored reflections in her damaged eyes. Though she's blinded, she still is a formidable Varren, maybe even more so now.

I roll the cup between my palms as Krito lowers his tone, insistent.

"You can't keep doing this Goran. You need to face it before you become consumed again."

_Again, huh?_

Krito refers to a time long past. When we first met in the seedy alleys of Omega. He was young, naive, he had no idea of the horrors that went down during the times of the invasion. Perhaps that's just what I needed, though. A new perspective. A fresh mind. One untouched by nothing but despair.

"_You're a disgrace to your kind_," the little bastard had said. If I were in my prime I would have blasted him for uttering such an insult. But he was right. I had just been thrown out of the last bar on Omega that hadn't banned me, currently laying comfortably in the waste of the back alley and slowly starving to death from having lived off of nothing but alcohol for the last six months.

If it had been any other race I probably would have agreed, but somehow this small ignorant Vorchan child sparked enough of my old self back in that moment. Almost like an old engine burning off the dust from years of storage.

I finally look up at him. His younger Vorchan features now aging well in his prime. He knows how far down the bottle I've been. More importantly he knows why, but, perhaps he's right. Perhaps it's time to finally time to open those flood gates before I bring any more shame to my people's history.

As soon as the moment overwhelms me with confidence, it is taken, and I am stuck again.

"I don't need to face anything because nothing is haunting me." I get up and turn away, loudly placing the cup on the nearby crate. "Mind your own damned business child."

I can feel his eyes burrowing into the back of my head as he watched me make my way back into our ship. I don't hear from him for the rest of the night.

My daughter's face appears to me in my dreams. She smiles and runs to me, calling out as I embrace her. Her mother is not far behind, watching with a soft gaze. Our eyes meet and a thousand "I love you's" pass between. My daughter is showing me her new doll, her loud voice ringing incessantly in my ears, I try to answer but my voice is lost. Confused, I continue to try, only for her to not hear me.

She turns back to her mother and asks when I'll be home. I shout out to them and tell them "I'm here" and that I never left. My wife kneels to her, trying to explain that I'll be back soon and that my work is very important for their colony.

Suddenly the sky turns dark and the ground begins to shake. Alarms are blaring around us, people begin screaming. I look around hoping to find answers. I wish that I hadn't. An evacuation notice has been issued. But I know it's too late. I scream or them to run, get to a shop as fast as they can, to get out of here. But they don't hear me.

I watch as the wild look in my wife's eyes turns from panic to acceptance as she watches the sky explode before them. She clutches onto our child, barraging her with panicked questions, and attempts to soothe her as the wave of death looms mere seconds away.

My voice has gone hoarse as my failed attempts to contact them die out. In one final attempt I rush to them, throwing my arms and body around them. I know that their bodies with disintegrate any moment now, but I can't help but try to stop it through any means. I feel the light overtake us, the intense heat overwhelms us as our molecules rip apart.

I wake up gasping. My whole body is soaked with sweat. I throw off the sheets and wipe my face, attempting to control my breathing. My feet stick to the floor as I make my way to the bathroom, dowsing my head in water.

I grasp the sink in an attempt to ground myself and name as many systems as I can to distract myself. I thought I was done having those dreams. I'd give anything to be with them now.

A strange tilt in the ship rouses me from my thoughts. I venture out to the bridge, passing a snoozing Dova on the holodeck. I can make out the figure of Krito by the navigation table. He pulls up the star map as I continue to grow closer. Before I manage to loudly ask him what he's doing, the map answers. The course plotted shows we are headed to a nearby planet, in the Bahak System.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" I growl, shoving him aside.

The Vorcha snarls back, baring his teeth as he stands his ground. "I'm sick and tired of your gloomy moping! It's time you stopped being a coward, faced your past and moved on!"

I cancel the requested mapping, snapping back, "I don't need no underbelly rotten Vorcha to tell me what I need!"

Krito stares at me as I string a few more insults his way as the system rejects my input. After the fifth time the red alarm dings I whip back to him.

"Give me the command key." I demand. Krito is silent. His blank face only serves to anger my already hot temper. I clench my fists and repeat the demand, my teeth grinding. He doesn't move. Something inside me snaps and I grab him by the collar, pinning him to the wall.

When I repeat the demand this time, my voice reverberates throughout the entire ship, waking Dova.

Still he does not answer.

Though he is young, the Vorcha does not flinch. I search his eyes and see no fear in them. For a moment I am confused. Anyone in their right mind would have felt threatened by a Batarian pinning them. Why didn't he?

Then it clicked.

He knows. He knows I won't do it. I'm all bark and no bite and he knows it. Though he is a pain in my ass, sticks his nose where it doesn't belong, and acts like he owns the place, he's the closest thing to family I have. There's no way I'd risk losing my family for a second time. There's no return from that.

I slowly release him and turn back to the corridor. I pause for a second to comment, before letting it lie and return to my quarters, a now worried Dova in tow.

In the morning we say nothing. An equal understanding passing between our eyes. The ship is docked in a nearby planet in the Bahak System, one that holds everything I've been trying to run from.

I follow the Vorcha down the docks and through the a dark tunnel, the light from outside outlining his silhouette with an angelic glow. My heart beats so loudly it muffles the echoing steps. I am overcome with numbness. It starts in my fingers and toes, working its way up to my face. This was a mistake. I'm not ready. I try to call out to Krito but my voice gets caught as the harsh sun momentarily blinds me.

Suddenly we are at the stone pillars. They span as far as the eye can see, encircling us like a maze. I spot other batarians and humans as well as a few turians scattered about the memorials, are they also here to grieve? Or are they here to celebrate the genocide of my people? It's no surprise that the Citadel turned a blind eye to us. If it weren't for purely political reasons, they wouldn't have donated the pretty credit to build this memorial in the first place. It's the least they could do. If they actually cared for our people they would have allowed us justice by sending us Shepard's head.

I don't notice how hard I'm clenching my body until my companion places a hand on my shoulder. He studies me for a moment before stating, "I'll follow your lead."

And then the baton is passed to me. I focus on moving one foot at a time, letting my eyes scan over each of the stones, searching for any sense of familiarity. These are names of strangers, I think. We pass stone pillars after pillars, still nothing. A childish part of me quips that perhaps they didn't die that day, that's why I have yet to find them. I know that is wrong, but it was the last hope I had.

I've stopped before I've realized why. I read the names in front of me several times over, trying to make sense of what they say. I know what they say, but my brain is trying to block them out in a last ditch effort to shield myself from the realization. I lovingly move my fingers over them, tracing the engravings.

_That's my daughter._

_That's my wife._

I collapse onto the cold plaza ground, digging my hands into the stone as I rest my forehead against it. My vision becomes unfocused and hazy as tears blind me. They travel down my face as my voice cracks and my mind races. An unearthly wail escaping my curled lips. Why did it have to be us? Why did it have to be my family?

_Batarians don't cry._ I tell myself.

It's undignified. It shows weakness.

_Batarians don't cry._ I repeat as Krito places a hand silently on my shoulder.

_Batarians don't cry._


End file.
